How to Shut Her Up
by cr8vgrl
Summary: A critical journal entry and a little push from Harry gives Ron the courage to make his move. While doing so, he learns the secret to shutting Hermione Granger up. ONESHOT


**A/N: I own absolutely nothing, and I've never done anything for Harry Potter, so I hope I stick pretty "in character." Enjoy! :D**

Hermione Granger had never felt such a strong hate towards anyone in her life as she did at that moment towards Lavender Brown. Strike that. She hated Ron Weasley even more at the moment, for it was _his_ arms that were wrapped around Lavender, keeping her from leaving, and it was _his_ mouth that was fused to hers, silencing that annoying, nails-on-a-chalkboard giggle of hers.

Perhaps she hated Lavender because she wished that she, Hermione, was the one over there, seated in Ron's leather chair with him, bathed in firelight and wrapped in his arms. Perhaps she hated Ron because he was partaking in the make out session so enthusiastically.

Or, perhaps she hated Ron at the moment because after all these years, he had not chosen her. She knew that she was not one for public displays of affection, so she highly doubted that she would let him kiss her the way he was kissing Lavender, but she would have been perfectly content with a nightly snuggle and a few stolen kisses when no one was looking. Instead, she was at the other end of the Gryffindor common room, directly in the path of a draft.

A hand touched hers and she snapped out of her reverie. She looked up to find her friend, Harry Potter, watching her carefully. Without a word, his hand tapped hers and she looked down to find that she had been gripping her quill so hard that she had broken the tip as well as splattered ink all over her parchment. Horror washed over her as she watched the black liquid destroy four hours of careful notations.

"No," she whispered, her voice desperate.

"Don't you know some sort of spell?" Harry asked her quietly, glancing from his distraught friend to her ruined paper, and back again.

Hermione shook her head, frantically wracking her brain for some spell to clear the ink from her schoolwork. _Any_ spell! But none came to mind. She glanced up to look again at Harry, but instead, her gaze slid over his shoulder back to the fire. Ron and Lavender were still in the same, compromising position they had been when she had stopped writing the first time. Unbidden, she felt tears spring to her eyes, and to her added horror, one tear slid down her cheek before she could blink it back into submission.

"Oh Hermione," Harry whispered, unaware of what was going on behind him, "please don't cry! I'll go and get a few of my spell books and we can try and find one that'll erase the ink."

Hermione sniffed and shook her head. "It's not about the ink," she said, lifting a fist so that she could swipe at her cheek angrily.

Harry frowned, not understanding what she meant. Why was she crying if it wasn't about the ink splatters? He watched her for a minute and saw her gaze waver until it slid away from him and landed on something behind him for a moment. He turned, and then saw what had made Hermione cry. His eyes narrowed as he watched his friend for a moment before turning back to Hermione for fear of losing his dinner.

"Ah," he said softly, understanding illuminating the brilliant green eyes hidden behind his glasses. "I know how you feel," he told Hermione, and it was his turn for his gaze to waver, lighting on another ginger-haired Gryffindor in the room.

Hermione turned and saw the object of Harry's wistful gaze seated on the floor in front of the sofa by the fire. Ginny Weasley. Immediately, some of the pain over Ron dissipated from her heart and was replaced by pain for Harry. The Boy Who Lived had gone through so much more than any young man should have to go through, only to have to separate himself from the object of his affections.

It was her turn to place a small hand over his larger one. "I'm sorry," she said, and she knew by his sad smile that although her words comforted him, they were not what he wanted to hear. He wanted Ginny, and there was nothing he could do about it, for he had steeled himself against any relationship during this dangerous time in history.

"We're in the same boat, aren't we?" he asked, trying to make light of the situation.

Hermione, however, chanced another look at Ron and felt a stab of pain towards him. "No," she said softly, gathering up her broken quill and her ruined parchment. "At least the object of _your_ affections actually loves you back." She tapped the bundle in her arms and then said, "Don't worry about it. I'm going to bed. Good night."

"Night," Harry said softly, watching with dismay as his friend trudged up the stairs to her room with her shoulders drooping in defeat, and more than a little sadness. Harry looked over at Ron and noticed that the latter had not even looked up. A rare sense of disgust crept over Harry and he turned away from the scene to focus once more on his homework, but Ginny once again caught his attention.

Her hair was lit up by the fire, turning the vivid red into a fiery orange that shimmered when she moved, or when she raised a pale, freckled hand up to brush an errant strand out of her face. She made a face, and her nose scrunched up in a way that made Harry catch his breath. Even disgusted over her homework, Ginny Weasley was breathtaking…and not his. With a dejected sigh, he pulled his gaze away before his depression could deepen.

As he dipped his quill into the inkwell in front of him, a bit of leather caught his attention, nestled under the extra pages of parchment Hermione had brought with her tonight when she had helped him with his Potions essay. He left his quill in the inkwell and reached across the table, grabbing the leather book and pulling it back to his side of the table.

Harry paused before he opened the book, feeling as though he was betraying Hermione's privacy. Was he? Surely if it was important, Hermione wouldn't have left it there on the table. _"She'd leave anything on the table with the state she was in when she left, and you know it,"_ a voice whispered to him in his head, but Harry pushed it aside and opened the book anyways, surprised that it didn't have some sort of enchantment on it to keep prying eyes from reading it. However, after a few moments of reading the pages, Harry snapped the leather book closed and swiveled around in his chair to once again glare at Ron. He had to do something about this, and he was going to do it now before he lost the nerve. Or before Hermione found out and hexed him for it, which was more probable than him actually losing his nerve.

Without thinking about what he was doing, Harry pushed back his chair and strode over to Ron's chair, tapping Lavender on the back and attempting to ignore the grotesque noises she was making. When she finally looked up at him, blinking her eyes confusedly, Harry said gently, "It's late, Lavender. I think you should be getting to bed." He turned and looked at Ginny, who had popped her head over the back of the sofa when she heard him speak, and added, "You should both be getting to bed."

"But-" Lavender began, her bottom lip extending in a pout that looked almost comical.

However, Ginny was a much quicker thinker and realized that Harry had something important to say, so she piped up and said loudly, "You're right, Harry. Come on, Lavender. We should go. Morning's going to come pretty early."

Lavender shrugged and proceeded to kiss Ron goodnight as though she hadn't kissed him enough that night, and then slid off his lap, brushing past Harry without a word. Ginny, however, bade her brother goodnight and then strode toward Harry, surprising him by hugging him tightly and whispering in his ear, "You owe me, Harry Potter." Then, without a backwards glance, she was gone, herding Lavender out of the common room. Harry tried not to shiver at the sensation of her lips so close to his ear.

Instead, he turned his gaze back to Ron, who stretched lazily and said, "Well, I'm off to bed as well."

"No," Harry said and stepped in front of his friend to keep him from getting up out of the chair. "You just sit right there for a moment. I want to talk to you."

Surprised, Ron looked curiously at his friend. "About what?" he asked.

"For starters, why are you with Lavender?"

Ron blinked, even more surprised that his best friend was asking him about this particular subject. He shrugged and didn't say anything.

"So you're with her, practically sucking her face off, and you have no idea why you're with her?" Harry asked incredulously, but he knew that what he said was true. He also knew _why_ Ron was going on with Lavender night after night, but he wanted to hear the confession from his friend's own lips.

"I know why," Ron said grumpily, but the way he said it, as though he were trying to convince himself instead of Harry, assured his friend that Ron really had no idea.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"That's my own business," Ron retorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"No it's not," Harry said, just as stubbornly. "Not when you're hurting a friend of mine."

"Who?" Ron asked, and his evident alarm combined with his deer-in-the-headlights look convinced Harry that the question was not asked to buy time.

"Who do you think?" Harry asked, wanting his friend to really think about what he was saying.

A frown creased Ron's normally teasing face, and he thought hard for a moment before he finally said hesitantly, "Hermione?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at his friend. "Why would you say her?"

Ron looked uncomfortable and shifted for a moment before he said, "Because she didn't say goodnight tonight."

Now they were getting somewhere. "And why do you think that is?" Harry asked him.

"How should I know?" Ron shot back gruffly.

Harry realized that they were getting dangerously close to the truth and he said, "I just figured that since you chose her, you'd have a reason for hurting her."

Ron sat silent in his chair for so long that Harry grew frustrated and tossed the leather book at Ron. "Perhaps this'll help you understand." He strode to the stairs and turned, saying, "Oh, and Ron?"

Ron looked up, holding the book in both hands. "Yeah?" he asked.

Harry nodded to the book in Ron's hands and said, "Fix it one way or another, or else we might have to have another chat. You're my best mate, but Hermione's like my little sister, and I'm going to take care of her as well." Harry grinned. "Good night," he said, and then he was gone.

Ron stared at the stairway for a moment, lost in his shock, and then he slowly turned back to the book in front of him. With trembling hands, he opened it carefully, as though afraid that it might contain a note from Tom Riddle, or the basilisk itself. Nothing so generic met his eyes. What adorned the pages was even more frightening. The book had no locking enchantments on it, but it did have a spell that, upon opening the book, immediately turned the pages to the last entry written. The date on it was from earlier that night.

_Tonight is like any other night,"_ the page proclaimed, and Ron recognized the handwriting as Hermione's immediately. _Ron's sitting with that horrible Lavender curled up in his lap, and it completely sickens me. It makes me hate both of them because I desperately want __**that**__. There. I've written it. I want to be the one curled up next to Ron. I want him to love me and hold me just as close as he holds Lavender each night. What does he see in her? I realize that my frizzy hair, my body, and my big teeth don't make me attractive in the least, but my mind __**must**__ count for something. Even Victor Krum valued my mind more than Ron does, and I only accepted his invitation to the Yule Ball because Ron never asked me until it was too late. I've loved Ron for years, and whom does he choose? Lavender Brown. At times, I wish that I wasn't friends with him anymore, because I can't bear to be __**just**__ friends anymore. I'm so tired of sitting night after night and watching them kiss, because I know that that will never happen to me._

Ron tore his gaze away from the page, unable to read any more because he noticed the warped circles over the rest of the writing and he knew that those were caused by Hermione's tears. He'd caused Hermione to cry. "Bloody-" he began, but stopped mid-oath, knowing what Hermione would think of his language. He'd been jealous of her "relationship" with Viktor Krum and had started fooling around with Lavender Brown to spite Hermione. Now, he'd made an even bigger mess of things than they already were.

"_Tomorrow,"_ he vowed silently. _"Tomorrow, I'll fix this."_ And he knew that he would start by breaking up with one Lavender Brown. He stood from his chair then and, journal in hand, strode off to bed. However, it was a long time before he actually slept.

* * *

That morning, Ron awoke before Harry, a first in all their years at Hogwarts. In fact, he was the first one up in the Gryffindor house. He quickly showered, mentally rehearsing a dozen different scenarios and a dozen different ways he could explain his feelings to Hermione. After his shower, he threw on his clothes and bounded down to the common room, positive that he would find Hermione curled up in his chair as she usually was in the morning, reading _Hogwarts: A History_ for yet the billionth time. Today, however, he wouldn't tease her about how the pages _must_ be enchanted to keep them from wearing out due to the amount of times she had read through the book.

However, she wasn't there. Ron skidded to a stop, shocked. It was very unlike Hermione to alter her morning routine, and he immediately knew that she must be even more upset by last night's mistake than he had counted on. "Brilliant," he muttered and collapsed into his chair in order to think.

Harry found him there an hour later, still staring at the same section of wall that he had been glaring at for the past sixty minutes. When he heard his friend approach, Ron shot a glance his direction. "I'm going to fix it," he told Harry confidently, but his voice shook slightly as he said it.

"Good for you," Harry said, mentally grinning. At least he could bring a small amount of joy to _someone's_ life during this dangerous time of life.

Ron nodded and then turned fully towards his friend. "If she hexes me, it'll be your fault."

Harry grinned and turned away, hearing his classmates beginning to troop down the stairs. "I'll take my chances," he said softly so that only Ron could hear him. However, when Harry turned to glance at his friend, he found Ron striding purposefully towards Lavender Brown.

* * *

Ron didn't see Hermione until breakfast, and even then, she didn't stay long. She ate the minimum she could get away with, barely saying a word, and excused herself as quickly as possible. For the first time, Ron picked at his food, nervously shifting in his seat and waiting for an opportunity to talk with her, but she never gave him the chance. He only managed, "Would you pass the toast, Mione?" and then, she was gone, and he released an unhappy sigh.

"Go after her," Harry said discreetly, leaning in front of Ron to grab another piece of toast.

"I don't know where to find her," Ron said dejectedly.

"Where does Hermione go for comfort?" Harry asked his friend.

Ron thought for only a moment before he was up and walking swiftly towards the library. When he reached the doors, he paused, bracing himself against anything and everything that might have happen as soon as he pushed those doors open.

Inside, the vast library smelled dusty, well used, and in some small way, pleasantly like Hermione. He closed the door behind himself and silently made his way past the many shelves of books, glancing down each for Hermione. He found her all the way in the back, seated on the floor and propped up against the bookcase with her head in her hands. Her wavy hair flowed over her shoulders, almost obscuring her face from view, but Ron could still see the single tear that was making its way from her left eye down to her mouth, and it unnerved him.

"Hermione?" he said softly. When she didn't respond, he took a step closer and whispered again, "Hermione?" She stirred, but didn't bother to look up. "Mione?"

"Don't call me that," Hermione hissed, not looking up.

"Why not?" Ron asked, surprised at her tone. Hermione never minded when he shortened her name.

"Because," she said huffily, but didn't elaborate.

"Because why?" Ron asked.

For the first time, Hermione raised her head, and Ron saw that the tear he had seen had only been one of many. Her cheeks were stained with tear tracks and her eyes were slightly red. "Because it makes me cry," she cried angrily. Her eyebrows knit into a frown that normally would have scared Ron away for at least two days, but now, he was not to be deterred from his mission.

"I wouldn't think a nickname would make you cry," Ron said softly, squatting down so that he was on Hermione's level.

Fury flashed in Hermione's tear-reddened eyes and she jumped up angrily, her hair flying back over her shoulders as she did so. "That's because you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon!" she yelled, then stiffened, realizing that she had just yelled in a library.

Ron, also, was quiet for a moment, but not because he feared getting reprimanded. He knew that there was no one else in the library at this time of the morning. Instead, he was calmly looking up at Hermione, towering above him at the moment, trying to remember to breath. Even angry and teary, Hermione Granger took his breath away. How could he have been so stupid as to ignore the small little hints she had given him over the years?

"You're probably right," Ron said carefully, knowing that he had to be extremely careful when Hermione was in this state. Her eyes plainly told him that she would just _love_ to hex him at the moment. He stood slowly and took a step closer to his friend, looking down at her now. "So why don't you tell my teaspoon-emotioned self why the name bothers you after all these years? Why now?"

For a moment, Ron thought that she might not answer him. By the way she continued to suck her cheeks in and out, he knew that she was trying to control her anger so that she wouldn't yell once again and shatter the peace and quiet of the library. However, she finally dropped her head and mumbled, "Because a nickname's a term of endearment."

"So?" Ron asked, hoping that he wouldn't have to pull out her journal, which was nestled inside the bag at his feet.

"So I don't want you to use that on me when-" she shot back before stopping abruptly, knowing that she had gone too far.

"When?" Ron asked, still waiting for her to say that she was jealous of Lavender. "When I'm with Lavender?" he guessed, trying to give her a push in the right direction.

His prompt, however, only further inflamed her anger and Hermione tossed her hair over her shoulder, glaring at him. "That's insufferably presumptuous of you," she told him angrily. "I don't give a piece of parchment what you and Lavender do."

"Perhaps not a piece of parchment," Ron said, and his lopsided smile broke forth as he reached into his book bag. "But you do give a leather journal what Lavender and I do." He waved the book in front of her face and watched her emotions play across her features.

Shock came first, widening her eyes. Then, horror took over, blushing her cheeks and making her draw in a gasp of breath. Last came torrential anger as she expelled that breath in a rush of loud words.

"How dare you!" she cried, making a wild grab for the book, which Ron easily avoided. "You've got absolutely no right to read that, and how dare you even touch it!" She sucked in another breath, glaring at Ron, who was leaning against the bookshelf behind him, patiently waiting for the tirade to end. When Hermione got started, there was absolutely nothing that could induce her to shut up.

"I bet Harry gave this to you, didn't he?" she yelled. "Oh, he's going to get it! He had no right to read it! How dare he! And I thought that my secret was safe with him! That's the last time I'll trust him! The Boy Who Lived won't live very long when I'm done with him! As for you! You should know better!" And then, as quickly as her tirade had began, she paused, and another tear, this one of frustration, rolled down her cheek. "Why did you have to choose _her_? What's wrong with me? I know that my hair and teeth are awful, but honestly! I have to be better than Lavender! I-!"

At this point, hearing her voice the same opinions of herself that she had written about, a thought popped into Ron's head. Just as Hermione grabbed her wand, no doubt in order to make him eat slugs, or something equally as nasty, Ron leapt across the small aisle and grasped her wrists, pressing her gently up against the bookshelf and pressing his lips against hers in one smooth motion.

The wand dropped from Hermione's hand, but neither paid attention to it as it clattered to the floor, unused. All Hermione could think of at that moment was the fact that Ron Weasley, the boy she had been in love with for years, was actually kissing her. And she was kissing him back.

Ron pulled away from the kiss only enough so that he was able to see Hermione's brown eyes. "I'm so sorry," he whispered hoarsely, "for how I've treated you." Then, he pressed his lips to hers again without giving her a chance to say anything.

They stayed that way for a very long time, but when Ron drew away again, he let go of her wrists and raised a hand to run it through her silky hair. "You're hair's gorgeous. It's not bushy at all anymore." His finger twisted lightly in the strands and he asked, "Do you know how many times I've wanted to do this?" He pulled her close and sealed her lips with his once again, his fingers winding through her hair and massaging her scalp.

When Ron pulled away again, he ran one hand over Hermione's lips. "Your teeth are perfect. I always look forward to seeing you smile." He kissed her again, and Hermione smiled slightly into the kiss.

"As for your body," he said huskily when he pulled away again, his hands sliding down to her hips, "it's gorgeous." He brought one hand up to caress her cheek, causing her to lean into his hand, and said, "And your mind is sharper than Godric Gryffindor's sword." With that, he kissed Hermione once more, holding her so tight against his chest that he could feel her heart beating against his own.

When he pulled away, Ron leaned his forehead against Hermione's, grinning as he heard her shallow breathing. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I love you just the way you are," he told her, and then added with a grin, "Mione."

This time, however, Hermione didn't retaliate with anger. She smiled widely, showing her teeth as well, and threw her arms around Ron, hugging him tightly. "I love you too," she whispered softly in his ear, running one hand through his ginger hair. "I love you so much." It was Hermione who sealed their lips together once more before they were forced to abandon the library for their classes.

As they ran down one long hall hand in hand, Ron had to smile. He'd found his courage, and not only was he closer to Hermione now, but he had also learned the secret to shutting her up when she decided to be exceptionally long-winded: kiss her. And he planned to do just that, over and over!

**A/N: Now I hope that wasn't too bad! Please review and tell me if you liked it. Hope you did! :D**

**cr8vgrl  
**


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